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she understood all too well, lingering in a louse-infested serf's hut on the borders of her land. Fuming, all but incoherent because he seemed to have beaten her and she was forced into sending for him, Alinor wrote to Ian. In her fury she was somewhat less than polite in her demand that he return to Roselynde. She did not dare weep with rage because she was too proud to expose a tear-marked face, which might be misunderstood, to the arriving guests. She bit her lips and dug her nails into her palms to curb herself into some semblance of welcoming propriety. Most fortunately, the first arrival was welcome for herself and no polite greeting was necessary. |
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"Isobel!" Alinor shrieked, when her guest had entered the hall. She flew across, cast herself into her friend's arms, and burst into tears. |
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"Beloved, beloved," Isobel crooned, holding Alinor tight. "Alas, I was afraid that your letter did not tell all your heart. Lord Ian is a good man, and the marriage is most suitable and necessary. Do not weep, beloved. It is that demon, that monster of a king, that has forced you with your grief all raw into this marriage. Do not blame Lord Ian." |
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Alinor caught her breath and shook her head. "I do not blame Ian for that, andand I am not really sad." She lifted her face away from Isobel's and peered behind her. "Is William seeing to the men and horses? I will slay those grooms if they do not have all in readiness." |
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"William is not here," Isobel replied in a strained voice. |
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"Is he safe? Does he need help?" Alinor tensed for action, ready to call out her men-at-arms, ready to send another messenger to Ian. |
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"He is quite safe," Isobel replied, smiling in spite of her worries at the unsubdued nature of her friend. "He is waiting a mile or so outside of Roselynde Town. He wanted you to think again about asking him to come here. You know the king's hatred of him is growing |
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